Persona Non Grata
by kaligoddess
Summary: Having retired from the F-Zero circuit, Captain Falcon joins the restarted Smash Tournament. But something strange is going on while he joins Samus on a bounty hunt and he finds himself blamed for things he has no recollection of doing.
1. Chapter 1

(Author's Note:This story will, in all likelihood, contain tons of spoilers for Brawl, the F-Zero series, the Metroid series and god knows what else. In fact, if you aren't familiar with the F-Zero series I suggest you hit up Wikipedia or a fan site to do a quick catch up.

* * *

The first of Captain Falcon's coherent thoughts when he saw Samus without the Power Suit was that she was either the bravest or the dumbest bounty hunter he'd ever met (or possibly both, seeing as the two traits weren't mutually exclusive). His second thought was much more flattering, but probably would have resulted in a mouthful of broken teeth if he had voiced it.

What bothered him was not the skin tight suit (it wasn't like most of the F-Zero racers wore much more than that), it was that she took her helmet off. With the removal of a single item, she had exposed herself far more than if she had marched in stark naked. To be totally honest, it took him a few moments to even realize who she was. When he first spotted her blonde ponytail, he had thought that she was some sort of model or cheerleader for the tournament who had wandered away from her squad. The aura of a bounty hunter seemed to have dissipated. 'Not,' Falcon thought as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, 'that I really object all that much.'

It wasn't as if she were among enemies, anyway. There were a lot of familiar faces, as well as a few new ones, including two, blue furry things, what looked like an angel, a blob in armor and a really tiny guy in a space suit. All in all, he wasn't that impressed with the new competition.

The motley bunch of fighters gathered in the room could pass for companions if you didn't study them for too long and at they wouldn't try to pummel one another unless they were in a sanctioned match. Or at least they'd wait until no one was looking before attempting to kill each other.

Still, he wouldn't be caught dead with his helmet off among them. Near constant paranoia had kept him alive this long in a very dangerous profession, but there was another reason as well.

Part of being a good bounty hunter was building up an aura, a sense of mystery. The best had rumors and myths whispered about them that would make a tall tale seem like a little, white lie. If you were smart, you just encouraged the rumors and let the idea of you do most of the dirty work.

It was the aura that made a bounty come quietly, even if they clearly out gunned you. It was the aura that gave you the upper hand when some overstuffed bureaucrat tried to bargain the price down. It was the aura that scared off all the wannabes and newbies when you let it be known that you were on the job. In his less than humble opinion, the only thing Samus' aura was doing at the moment was making half of the room wish they were wearing looser pants.

The new mercenary sitting with his back to the corner gave the female bounty hunter a once over out of the corner of his eye and a lick of irrational anger flickered through Falcon. Samus didn't seem phased at all by the attention, either ignoring them completely or giving a cold blue-eyed glare at whichever unfortunately male she caught ogling. Well, the humanoid males, anyway. Falcon was almost certain that Kirby was making googly eyes at the pink fluff Pokemon, Jigglypuff. The mechanics of that coupling made his head hurt, so he tried to his thoughts towards more pleasant things, like how abnormally perky Samus' breasts seemed to be in that jumpsuit.

"I'm turning into a dirty, old man," he muttered under his breath, irritated at himself for getting so distracted. Both of the Mario brothers turned to look at him, but he waved them away, hoping they hadn't heard what he had said. They already hovered over their princess like overprotective parents and he didn't need anyone else glaring at him as he walked by. He drummed his fingers on the conference table and let his eyes wander around the room, sizing up rest of the Smashers in an effort to keep his eyes off a certain blue suited bounty hunter.

The lot of them were all crammed into one small conference room in the Smash Stadium awaiting...someone. Probably Master Hand, although they hadn't been given much information. It seemed that after the debacle that was the Subspace Invasion, the Powers That Be wanted to restart the Smash Tournaments in order to gain some much needed positive publicity. Good Publicity meant more money pouring in and far be it from Falcon to refuse a larger cash purse, or a little extra notoriety for that matter.

A dark look from the Pokemon trainer made him force himself to stop drumming. He could wait weeks for his bounty, tracking them through galaxy after galaxy with the relentless doggedness of the best hunting hounds. But when it came to sitting quietly in an overheated, windowless conference room waiting form someone to deign to grace the Smashers with his or her presence? He had all the patience of a hungry toddler and the temperament to match.

Several of the others were getting fidgety too and the last place he wanted to be was trapped in this room while tempers started flaring. He stood up, chair squeaking loudly in the silence and instantly all eyes were on him. "I'm going to wait outside," he announced to no one in particular and tried to maneuver his way to the door without stepping on too many toes.

The building was unnecessarily large, it's corridors twisting and turning like a maze. He passed a few hallways that he knew led to various training halls and storage rooms, heading for the access passages that would get him to the roof.

The day was grey and windy, but the corrugated metal was dry as he pushed open the access panel and climbed out. His boots clanked loudly as he walked towards the edge, and he instinctively winced at the sound. While no one had been explicitly told not to stand on the rooftop, he had already come to the conclusion that they weren't weren't going to be encouraged to stand on the edge of the expanse of dangerously tilted metal to get a different view.

From his vantage point, he could almost see the entirety of the complex from the the huge stadium for events to the odd looking dormitory for the competitors. On the horizon was a small, modern city, but the surroundings of the complex seemed to change according to who was viewing them, no doubt the result of whatever allowed Master Hand to gather them all together in the first place. And, more importantly, he could see the Blue Falcon where he had parked it, ready to take him awy from this wretched meeting.

* * *

(Yet another author's note: I actually like Zero Suit Samus, but Falcon has a specific reason for feeling like he does and yes, there's a reason I brought it up.)


	2. Chapter 2

If he had actually stayed for the whole meeting, he might have known about this 'Final Smash' thing before Luigi had thrown a fireball into the floating emblem and started his little hypno-dance. The world was spinning and turning all sorts of psychedelic colors as the plumber twirled, causing both Falcon and the newcomer, Pit, to crumple into two, dry heaving heaps.

Samus had wisely retreated to the opposite end of the platform and he could see the smirk on her face when his vision started to clear. He barely had enough time to stagger to his feet before her blue form came flying at him and he hastily rolled to the side. Unfortunately, the dodge took him right into the path of one of the angel's arrows, the shock of which caused him to wheeze out all the air in his lungs. While he struggled to catch his breath, Samus charged at him again.

Now he knew why she took the Power Suit off.

When she wore the bulky armor, she could keep her opponents at bay with a steady barrage of energy blasts, bombs and missiles but had a little trouble maneuvering away from the faster, close-ranged fighters who could slip past all the fire power. With nothing impeding her movements now, she was lightning fast and nimble, side stepping his flurry of punches and neatly kicking him in the temple. 'None of her power has been sacrificed for speed,' he noted.

Teeth gritted against the pain, he managed to snatch her leg before she recovered from the kick. She wasn't the only one with speed on her side after all. But before he could get a good shot in, Luigi launched himself towards them and he had to release his victim or risk flying completely into the void around the arena. With only a one stock lead, he couldn't afford any falls and with a quick twist in the air, he caught the edge before falling to his demise and took the opportunity to re-evaluate his opponents before pulling himself back up.

Luigi was an altogether underwhelming sight, but any good bounty hunter knew that appearances were often deceiving. Turning your back on him would result in a hard hitting Smash coming at you when you least expected it, but right now Samus was keeping him more than occupied.

Pit was maneuverable in the air and quick with the blade, but he didn't hit hard enough to send anyone off the platform without a lot of damage. He was a nuisance, but certainly not the biggest threat on Final Destination at the moment. He was the only one on Falcon's side of the platform though.

And Samus, well she didn't seem to be slowing down anytime soon.

He hauled himself over the ledge and sweep kicked as soon as his center of gravity was over the platform. Pit was knocked onto his back and just managed to roll away before Falcon left a boot print on his stomach. Th angel couldn't dodge away from the Falcon Kick that followed and went flying through the air to collide with Samus' unguarded back, and she reflexively let go of Luigi and dropped him on his face.

With a satisfied smirk, Falcon started another Falcon Kick to close the gap, only to spot the Bob-omb that spawned between them a moment too late...

* * *

He tossed his helmet on the bed, not even bothering to pick it up again when it bounced off and rolled under the bed frame.

'How humiliating.'

At least he didn't have to deal with the constant ribbing he would have gotten had he been staying with the others in what had been affectionately dubbed the 'Smash Mansion.' It was more of a dormitory, really, but 'Smash Dorm' just didn't have the same sort of ring to it.

The others probably thought he was a bit of an anti-social nutjob, but he really couldn't have cared less. Frankly, he didn't want to be around half of them and he couldn't think of a good reason to make friends with anyone he was later planning to beat the crap out of. Aside from which, the dingy little apartment he was currently staying in was closer to the local bars in case he wanted to unwind with a beer. Or ten.

If he had been thinking he wouldn't have gone out at all, because it turned out to be about as relaxing as a Smash match. In his haste to forget the humiliation of blasting himself off Final Destination, he had forgotten that it was the last race of the Grand Prix that night, and the little hole in the wall bar was packed full of racing fans.

There was no way to get anyone to change the station to anything else, and of course everyone wanted to talk about the race with Captain Freakin' Falcon. He'd taken to ordering another drink every time it looked like someone was going to ask him a question and was rather impressed that he had managed to walk home in one piece. Heck, he was impressed he could still walk at all. Or find his apartment for that matter.

Who knew why watching the Grand Prix was such a sore point for him? He had bowed out gracefully while still on top, rather than becoming an old man chasing a lost dream like Silver Nelson. How many other people could claim to have won the Grand Prix three times in a row? So who cared if some punk-ass little snot had won the Champion's Belt?

He made a mental note to avoid all news sources the next day, even if it meant staying holed up in his apartment, turning off his communicator and sleeping until his next match.

The stench of alcohol refused to leave him even after he'd deposited his clothes in the dirty pile and he briefly considered taking a shower before collapsing. Then again, if he was going to sleep through the next day, it didn't matter what he smelled like. Bathing after going out to the bar was only something little girly men who drove giant racers with over power engines to compensate for their tiny dicks did. Jerkwad would probably shower with the Champion's Belt on too.

Falcon paused mid-thought and stomped into the mildewy kitchenette to pour himself a glass of water. There really was no reason to get so worked up about it, after all, he was the one who defeated Black Shadow and Deathborn. He was the one who saved the universe from destruction. He was the inter-galactically known bounty hunter. And while he hadn't own the Smash Tournament yet, it was only a matter of time until he added that to his resume as well.

The glass was emptied in seconds and he poured himself another without thinking. Sleeping for the next forty eight hours sounded fantastic, but he knew it couldn't work. While his next match wasn't for another two days, he would be expected to show up and at least pretend to watch the others. It wouldn't hurt to scout out the newcomers either and make sure no one else had any new tricks hiding up their sleeves.

* * *

Much to his annoyance, he had to rescue the Blue Falcon from a bum who was actually fondling her spoiler in the bar parking lot. Luckily the visor hid most of the symptoms of his hangover and he managed to scare off the hobo with a little posturing rather than an altercation. His head was still spinning, and the last thing he needed was to get his ass handed to him on the street. Normally he might even have given the guy a few credits before he scurried off, but the way that creep was leering at his machine made him feel dirty by proxy.

Between figuring out where he had parked his vehicle, chasing off the vagrant and getting stuck behind some little, old lady driving 300kmh in the left lane with her left turn signal on, he didn't make it to the stadium until halfway through the second match of the day. Kirby was just swallowing Diddy Kong when Falcon managed to slink into an empty seat behind the rest of the competitors who were spectating.

Samus blonde head turned towards him from the row in front. "Way to be an asshole last night," she said flatly.

Falcon froze and the crowd roared as Kirby spat Diddy out and into a land mine. He hadn't seen her in the bar, but if she was wearing civilian clothes, she'd be just another pretty face in the crowd. Hell, between the smoke, the crappy lighting and the alcohol, he barely saw two feet in front of his face. Maybe she was just pissed that he hadn't acknowledged her. Hopefully he hadn't put his foot in his mouth or something.

"I'm sorry," he said as the cheers died down. "I was just in a crappy mood because of the Grand Prix."

"I thought you were too embarrassed to show your face today," she added. "Or did you forget about the Home Run Derby?"

Apparently he had. Master Hand was always running these stupid challenges. Sometimes it was sending the sandbag as far as you could, sometimes it was a target obstacle course and sometimes it was some sort of horribly weighted battle against wire frames. As for as any of the participants could tell, it didn't affect anyone's rankings. The audience, however, lapped it up, so they were forced to do increasingly ridiculous tasks.

He sighed loudly. "I guess so, I don't remember being told about it at all."

Samus just shot him a steely flare and went back to watching Kirby mercilessly the ape.

--

When he found out the next match was going to be over Aero Drive, he immediately assumed that it would be a recreation like the Big Blue arena. It wasn't until he got a call from Jody about meeting her after the match that he learned that they'd be fighting over an actual race.

The idea both intrigued and disturbed him. On one hand, he was interested to know how the mechanics of the fight would work. On the other hand, he felt horrible for any hapless pilot who collided with a combatant. Even the heaviest of the group would do little damage to a racer, but they would certainly leave quite a disgusting smear across the windshield.

Now, as the platform rose slowly over the track, miles above the city, he began to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. None of the other combatants seemed too sure of themselves either and they all kept their distance as the match started.

The little electric rat, Pikachu, was the first to strike, sending a spark dancing across the platform at Snake. Even though the electricity had mostly dissipated by the time it reached him, Falcon could still feel it tingling through his boots as he crossed the platform. This was definitely going to be an interesting fight.

A green speckled egg flying past his head reminded him that there was another brawler present. With the lack of space, Yoshi was going to be a serious threat for once. The last thing he needed was to be swallowed and then dumped off the platform.

Pikachu emanated a rather large bolt of lightning, causing the whole area to vibrate and then Falcon had no more time to examine the enemy, because Snake was bringing the fight to him.

The two traded punches for a few moments, trying to get an idea of each others fighting style before Falcon managed to create enough of an opening to get in an elbow jab to his opponent's mouth. Once the other Brawler was off balance, it was a simple matter of knocking him into the air with a Raptor Boost and juggling him. He was about to land a knee to the chest when the platform below them began to sink beneath the track.

By the time he registered what was happening, the racers were already speeding down the floating steps. All four combatants scrambled to get out of the way, no longer concerned with dealing damage to each other. The Hell Hawk swerved toward him, but was hit from the other side by the Stingray as Samurai Goroh had the same idea. The rush of wind was the two machines went flying past was more than enough to knock him off his feet.

With great relief, Falcon glanced upwards to see Yoshi reappeared above them on one of the recovery platforms. At least Master Hand wasn't actually trying to kill them. It also gave him an idea.

The fighting platform rose again and he hastily jumped on, trying to finalize his strategy. If he played his cards right, the other racers would do most of the work. All he had to do was hope that he had more friends than enemies among them.

Pikachu was shooting off electricity again, forcing everyone to the sides of their now speeding platform. Seconds later, the platform disappeared again, depositing them on a tower before immediately re-forming into two separate platforms. Falcon smiled slightly and then took a brief running start and punted the Pokemon onto the farther platform. Yoshi hopped up after it and Falcon turned to Snake.

This was the kind of fight he liked. At such a close distance, Snake's arsenal wouldn't do him any good and he could have the pleasure of punching out the man's lights at his leisure. The fact that they were speeding through the air at hundreds of kilometers an hour was just icing on the cake.

When the platforms sunk again, leaving them staring down the incoming racers, Falcon didn't hesitate. With a good shove, Snake was forced right into the path of the Queen Meteor...

--

Samus was waiting for him when Master Hand released them from the fight. "What, were you too lazy to finish the fight yourself?"

Falcon shrugged. "Letting arena hazards do the dirty work is a perfectly legitimate strategy." He noted she had donned the Power Suit, but he couldn't remember there being another fight scheduled. "You up again today?"

"No, I have some business to attend to." She carefully adjusted the Power Canon and put her helmet on.

"I hope that's not a threat."

Her chuckled echoed oddly inside the helmet. "No. I don't work for the kind of people who want your head. But, I was hoping you might be able to give me a little more information about this city."


	3. Chapter 3

His talk with Samus had been brief, but he still found himself racing through the city at speeds the local authorities wouldn't approve of. He had agreed to meed Jody at a local bar. While it was a little early in the day to be drinking, the place was known to be a favorite of the F-Zero racers and the locals knew better than to bother them.

The place was a total dive, with dingy walls and such dim lighting that the viewing screens provided most of the light. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spotted Jody among the crowd of familiar faces. She was sitting in a booth in the back and glaring at John Tanaka, who was sitting next to her and scribbling furiously on a data pad. When Falcon slid in opposite them, John barely raised his head to acknowledge his existence before returning to his work. Although the screen was upside-down, he was certain that it was a new body design for the Jody's racer.

"So how have you been?" Jody asked stiffly, although it was hard to tell if she was annoyed he was late or just bitter over the other man's presence.

"Good, I suppose." It was true enough. "I'd be better if Levin hadn't won the Grand Prix."

Jody just smiled slightly. "Jack's got your feathers ruffled? If I had that kind of money I could afford the best of the best for the White Cat."

Beside her, John gave his design a sour look but otherwise didn't react to the subtle dig. "I thought the Federation was footing the bill?" Falcon asked. He waved at the aging woman who passed for a cocktail waitress. "I don't think you'll have to wait long for new parts either."

"The Federation always wants to put in weird things, like stealth. I'm fairly certain that's against race regulations."

"There are cyborgs, androids, sentient octopi, bio-engineered monkeys and re-animated corpses racing and you're worried about race-regulations. I'm honestly a bit surprised that no one's attached a turret to their machine yet.," Falcon said with a chuckle.

John looked up briefly from his PDA. "The wind resistance would offset any gain from the ability to attack at a distance. And the association has already approved the use of stealth, in theory."

"Interesting." A little bit of stealth technology wouldn't be such a bad idea. He wasn't sure how useful it would be in a race, but there were quite a few more practical uses he could think of.

"There's no way you could put up one of those field generators in a race through. They have to weigh at least a few thousand kilograms," Jody protested.

"I think that's where the 'in theory' comes from." Falcon replied.

John shook his head. "It won't be theoretical for long. I'll have the new generator prototype ready by the end of the week." A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "They want it in the White Cat before the Diamond Cup."

No one could see Falcon's raised eyebrows. "Will it be available commercially?"

"Oh that's just what we need, criminals with legal stealth machines," Jody groaned. "It's bad enough Tanaka wants to put it in my racer."

John couldn't have looked more hurt if she had turned and decked him. "I'm just following orders. I wouldn't put it in if you didn't want it, but I don't get to choose what gets modified."

Fortunately the waitress showed up before Jody could tell him where to stick the work orders. After a few seconds of debating whether or not it was too early to be drinking the good stuff, Falcon ordered a beer from the tap.

"Any good rumors flying around lately?" he asked, trying to change the subject. Idle gossip certainly wasn't his thing, but when there were known criminals with bounties involved, he could suffer through it.

"Let's see, Mrs. Arrow announced she's taking a year off. She didn't say why, but everyone assumes she's pregnant. There's a few claims suggested that Levin and the Princia may have eloped. Oh, and Deathborn has supposedly been seen at some of the Underground races," Jody rattled off as the waitress came back.

Falcon barely managed to avoid aspirating his first sip. "There's no way Deathborn's doing anything. I watched the asshole die."

"Because dying has stopped him before, right?" Jody smirked.

"I know, but he was swallowed by a lake of lava..." He couldn't help but be disappointed. "I guess I'll have to stop Black Shadow from blowing up half of the city as well."

"That's the Federation's job," Jody cut it.

"Because they did such a great job last time." As soon as the words left his lips he regretted it. One look at Jody's face and he knew she was remembering a certain exploding reactor incident that almost killed all three of them.

He turned slightly towards John, hoping to transfer a little of Jody's annoyance, but the engineer was staring longingly over his shoulder. Curious, he tried to catch a glimpse of what was so interesting in the reflection off of J-Love's casing, but it was so distorted all he could make out was a vague orange blob. Whatever it was, it caused Jody's lips to set themselves in a grim line.

"May I join you?"

Samus' request actually startled him. Although the other bounty hunter had removed her helmet, she was still wearing her bulky armor and every eye in the room was on her. While some, like John, were ogling the impressive feat of technology that was her personal armor, more than a few beings were staring at her pretty face.

He slid in, allowing her to just barely squeeze in. "Samus, this is Jody Summer and John Tanaka. Jody, John, this is Samus Aran."

Jody's following greeting was a little less enthusiastic than her companion's, but Samus didn't seem interested in the other occupants of the booth.

"I wasn't expecting to see you around. Did you get your mark already?" Falcon asked, ignoring the awkward dynamic.

Samus' long ponytail swept along her armor as she shook her head. "This won't be as simple as I originally hoped. I didn't realize that so many people were after Zoda as well."

"Zoda's been a glitch in our program for some time now," Jody said tensely. "What's the bounty on his head now?"

"Depends. Are we talking about the official channels or do we count turning him in to his enemies." Off of the top of his head, Falcon could think of at least two crime lords who would easily pay triple the already ridiculous bounties offered in Mute City.

"I was looking at at least eight digits, possibly nine if he were brought in alive." Samus frowned. "If everyone wants him so badly, why hasn't anyone gone after him during one of the F-Zero races."

"There's too much money riding on the circuit for the sponsors to let anything happen." The bribes being paid to the local law enforcement agencies were supposed to be astronomical. "That and the cup is still worth more than his bounty. In order to even get on the track, you need to be a competitor and if you've got a shot at winning..."

He could almost see the wheels turning in Samus' head, as she watched John quickly sketch out what looked suspiciously like a schematic for a new Power Suit. "When is the next race?" she asked.

"The next race isn't for a few days and even then it's just a prize race, so not all the top racers will be there." Falcon answered carefully. "Of were you wondering if you had time to get an F-Zero license?"

"I won't need a license," she replied firmly, with an expression that said the conversation was finished for now.


End file.
